


Face My Fears

by KDblack



Series: We Can Find Paradise [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gogeta knows what he's doing, Identity Issues, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Saiyan Instincts, Saiyan-typical fightmance, Vegito is not well, fusion ship anthology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29389506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: In a certain pocket dimension reserved for those whose continued existence is impossible but whose power is too great to simply cease to exist, Vegito learns something new: no amount of one-sided beatdowns can rouse Gogeta's temper, but one casual touch can set his whole face ablaze.“You – what the hell did you just do?!” he yells, cheeks burning red.“Good question!” Vegito skips backward, hands raised, grinning defensively. He’s not trying to be offensive, or mocking, or cruel. He’s also trying to figure out what the hell he just did.(The Vegi/Goge ship anthology nobody asked for.)
Relationships: Gogeta/Vegito (Dragon Ball), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: We Can Find Paradise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158929
Comments: 62
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: frank discussion of power imbalances within a relationship.

In a certain pocket dimension reserved for those whose continued existence is impossible but whose power is too great to simply cease to exist, Vegito learns something new: no amount of one-sided beatdowns can rouse Gogeta's temper, but one casual touch can set his whole face ablaze.

“You – what the hell did you just do?!” he yells, cheeks burning red.

“Good question!” Vegito skips backward, hands raised, grinning defensively. He’s not trying to be offensive, or mocking, or cruel. He’s also trying to figure out what the hell he just did. See, here’s the thing: between the two of them, Gogeta is the most shameless, but it’s a placid sort of shamelessness, rooted in a fundamental lack of understanding – or at least caring – about social norms. It’s as vast and immovable as a mountain range, which means absolutely nothing before the storm of Vegito’s impulsiveness. Especially when Gotenks isn’t there to make them both reconsider their life choices.

In short, Vegito didn’t actually think about crossing boundaries when he grabbed Gogeta’s ass. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. He just looked at those ridiculous pants one time too many and reached out with the same focus he remembers from pulling a furious Chi-Chi close and running his hands possessively over a smirking Bulma.

Unfortunately, Gogeta was thinking, for once. No, that’s unfair – Gogeta is usually thinking. His thoughts tend to be slow-moving, buried deep, but when they surface, they do so explosively. Especially when he’s come to the wrong conclusion. 

His eyes shine, suddenly watery. For a second, Vegito's sure he's about to cry. “Don’t make fun of me!”

Case in point.

Now would be a good time for Vegito to defuse things. Unfortunately – for real, this time – Vegito has never successfully defused a fight in his life, and that’s not going to change now. “Pipe down, I didn’t even do anything!”

Gogeta’s eyes flare green, a wave of gold washes over their little corner of the universe, and everything goes south from there.

No matter what Gogeta believes, Vegito did not grab his ass as a joke, a prank, or a cruel reminder that, with the steady power gap between them, Vegito can do pretty much whatever he wants to Gogeta. That last one isn't in the list of increasingly irate accusations Gogeta's hurling at him, but Vegito's not stupid, he can put two and two together. There’s a slight tremor in Gogeta’s fists that wasn’t there before, a touch of fear in wild eyes, and he can’t seem to decide whether he’s trying to land so many hits Vegito can’t do anything but react or just keep Vegito at range. 

He's a little surprised Gogeta was able to focus on their circumstances for long enough to realize how bad things had the potential to get. Should've known better. Kakarot wasn't oblivious to what would've happened if Piccolo, Raditz, or Vegeta had won against him, and Gogeta takes after Kakarot in just about every way imaginable – every way but this. Kakarot's anger is cold and still, like Vegito's. Gogeta's anger burns.

It’s terrible. It’s beautiful. Vegito never wants it to stop. That masochistic desire is distracting, and distraction begets weakness. Gogeta isn’t as strong as Vegito, but raw strength is not what tends to win battles.

When Gogeta slams an iridescent orb of energy past Vegito’s guard and into his chest, they’re both shocked into silence. Vegito goes stiff as Stardust Breaker floods him with foreign power. It pours through veins and arteries, pooling out into organs, swarming until every piece of him is saturated with someone else’s ki. It tastes like cold judgement being passed on every scrap of cruelty within him. The solemn punishment of a ruthless guardian.

Green eyes stare up at him, confused. “Vegito?”

Vegito’s mouth moves, but only searing light comes out. Then the pain hits. His nerves are on fire. Blood drips from his mouth. His vision is growing darker. He drops, his transformation shattered, and starts to fall. 

It’s his first time being defeated. He wishes it was over something a bit less embarrassing.

* * *

Stardust Breaker is kind of a weird attack. It’s what you could consider a final move – you know, if it lands – but it’s also ridiculously situational. Or it should be, anyway. Vegito’s not actually sure when or how Gogeta came up with an attack that feeds on its target’s malice to do non-lethal but incredibly destructive internal damage. Until today, most of what he knew about that attack was that if dodged or deflected with focused ki, it whiffed hilariously, and Gogeta’s frustrated glare when it missed never ceased to make him smile.

After today, Vegito can confidently add something new to the list: if it lands, it hurts.

“Is this hell?” he rasps. “It feels like hell.”

Rough hands haul him upwards, which, ow ow ow please stop. “You okay?”

“Let me die.”

“No.” Stiff Saiyan hair brushes his forehead, leaving an uncomfortable prickle of _too close_ and a trace of warmth. “Can you open your eyes?”

Vegito groans and cracks an eye open. A haze of black swims into focus. It takes him a second to realize he’s gazing into Gogeta’s eyes. As soon as the pieces click together, he freezes up, even if it makes his sore muscles ache more. Gogeta’s close enough that Vegito can feel the heat radiating off him, Super discarded in favour of base form. Gogeta’s skin is… not unmarred, but not bruised black and blue, either. They spend most of their time fighting in Blue or Super. He’s not used to seeing Gogeta with black hair and eyes but no bruises. 

“Relax,” Gogeta murmurs, and Vegito abruptly realizes that Gogeta is crouched over him. Like a lion over a defeated challenger. Like a vulture over carrion. His eyes are as cool and distant as Stardust Breaker felt tearing through Vegito’s very soul. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“As if you could,” Vegito snaps on reflex, which jars something in his chest. He starts coughing and can’t stop. Trying to roll over onto his side just makes everything hurt more. But then, so does breathing.

Ugh. Clearly Gogeta can hurt him.

“Lie back down,” Gogeta says – no, orders. The firmness of his tone makes Vegito bristle, but there’s not really much he can do about it. He lets Gogeta’s hands guide him back down, glaring the whole time.

Like this, the difference between their builds, usually slight enough to be ignored, is very clear. Vegito doesn’t often feel small. He does now. Gogeta has a couple of inches and at least twenty pounds on muscle on him, is moving just fine when Vegito is pinned by his own weakness, is at once too close and not close enough. All of a sudden, Vegito’s acutely aware of his own vulnerability. Existing causes pain. His limbs might as well be made of stone. His wounds are undoing themselves, just like everything that happens in this closed-off pocket dimension eventually undoes itself, but if he moves too quickly – or at all – they’ll reopen before they heal. Speaking of which…

He tears his eyes away from Gogeta just long enough to glance down his own front and grimaces. Blood everywhere. Red all over his shirt, his gi, his gloves, and the fabric of Gogeta’s pants. That’s just embarrassing for everyone.

A soft little noise has his gaze shooting back up to Gogeta. “What?”

Gogeta tilts his head, frowning slightly. “You’re actually pretty fragile, aren’t you?”

See, this is what Vegito means when he says Gogeta is shameless. You shouldn’t say things like that to someone’s face. Especially not while you’re literally on top of them. “What the hell, that better not be a threat.”

“It’s not.”

“Good! You try stomping on me where it hurts and I’ll make you pay!” Assuming he lives through this. Assuming Gogeta doesn’t just keep hurting him, over and over, just enough to keep him weak. Vegito’s hands twitch at his sides, trying and failing to curl into fists. “Don’t get any ideas about taking me down a peg, got it?”

Gogeta frowns, not a trace of comprehension in his pretty head. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, revenge for every time I’ve pushed you down and mauled you?”

He can literally see the moment Gogeta unravels the euphemism. Understanding blossoms as crimson spreads across tan cheeks. “Why would I hurt you for that? It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

Vegito tips his head back and gazes skyward. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yeah.” Gogeta crawls closer, the motion unfairly sinuous, and smiles. “You weren’t making fun of me earlier, were you?”

“Now you get it.”

“What was that, then? It didn’t feel like you were picking a fight.”

No, it wouldn’t, would it? When Vegito picked a fight, everyone knew it. That touch was just… intimate. Too intimate for either of them. “I wish I knew.” 

An uneasy quiet settles over them. It drapes over Gogeta like fine silk. Vegito feels smothered. The longer he spends without a good fight, the more time his thoughts have to race ahead, spinning horror story after horror story out of whole cloth. He wishes those threads of impulse and nervous energy were the ones lying broken and helpless. It’s their fault he’s in this situation.

Why won’t Gogeta just leave? Vegito’s been known to hover while Gogeta’s pulling himself together, but he isn’t quite so obvious about it. He paces, flies around, takes off for a quick tour of their prison, anything to burn off some of the building tension. They’ve never really talked about whatever it is that lies between them. Vegito doesn’t like to admit he’s afraid of stuff, but he’s afraid of this. 

Specifically, he’s afraid of losing it. Like he’s already lost everything else.

Usually, when Vegito finds himself thinking too hard about what Gogeta is to him, he copes by thinking about something else – the wives he doesn’t have, the children he’s never held, the friends he’s barely spoken to, etc. This close, though, he can’t think about anything but the uneven curve of Gogeta’s jaw, the rippling muscle less than a foot away, the flecks of starlight in black eyes. It’s too much. He needs to put some distance between them. But he can’t move, and every time he opens his mouth to tell Gogeta to get away from him, the words catch in his throat. 

In the end, Vegito licks the blood from his teeth and says something else. “Do you even like me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why?” he asks plaintively. “I’m kind of awful.”

Gogeta tilts his head and sits back a fraction. It doesn’t help. Mostly, it just draws more attention to his exposed pecs. “You’re a lot of things.”

“And most of them are awful.” Vegito’s self-aware enough to know he’s a goddamn mess. Isolation has brought out the worst in him. The violence simmering beneath his skin, the way he lashes out with words and fists at any opportunity, the impulsiveness that leads to – well, this – all of it should serve as glaring warning signs. He shouldn’t be allowed to interact with other people. Gotenks and Gogeta are functional Saiyans, but him? He’s the only one who deserves to be trapped here, in this place that doesn’t really exist. 

That should matter. And it does, except Gogeta won't let it matter. All Vegito’s veiled threats smash uselessly against the wall of Gogeta's empty-headed resolve. It's infuriating. Vegito wants to hook his arms around Gogeta's neck and squeeze until he feels nails clawing at his flesh. Wants to paint stark bruises over golden skin. Wants to watch as Gogeta shudders under him, fighting for breath, utterly helpless. But he can’t.

If there’s anything he’s learned from all these years, it’s that breaking down is only attractive on other people.

The torrent of self-deprecation is cut off by a sharp sigh. “I really don’t get how you can hate yourself so much.”

“You wouldn’t,” Vegito says.

“No. Because I barely have a self to hate. I’m not even a patchwork construct, Vegito. There are more holes in my memory than there are… well, memories.” The corners of Gogeta’s mouth curl upward, as if what he’s saying is funny. “I’m not real like you are.”

“Bullshit.”

A soft laugh. “I wasn’t real until I met you.”

Vegito makes a sound like a whistling teakettle and tries to bury his burning face in his aching arms. “You can’t just say that!”

“You get worked up about the strangest things,” Gogeta says, as if he’s not perched just a few inches away from Vegito’s crotch. 

“You literally tried to kill me for touching your ass!”

Great, now they’re both blushing. Two grown men, unable to look each other in the eye. Is it too late to cancel this whole day and start over?

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Sure felt like it.” Still does. The pain hasn’t even lessened in the slightest.

“Do you know what that attack does?”

“Hurt?” Gogeta doesn’t look particularly amused, so Vegito makes a more serious guess. “It feeds on malice to create some kind of chain reaction. You can stop it in its tracks if you block it from getting into your system, but the moment it latches onto your ki, you’re pretty much screwed.”

“It destroys evil,” Gogeta says, as though Vegito didn’t just spent thirty seconds saying exactly that.

“Were you going somewhere with this?”

“You’re not evil, Vegito.” Gogeta sees Vegito open his mouth, ready to counter, and cuts him off at the pass. “If you actually meant to hurt me like that, you wouldn’t have survived it.” 

You could hear a drop in the silence that follows. You know, if there were any pins here. Vegito squirms restlessly, trying to failing to slide out of his skin. If he could, then maybe he could leave this churning mass of emotion behind and wriggle away, raw and bleeding, to start anew somewhere else. He doesn’t want to talk about this. But then, he never wants to talk about anything. “I’ve hurt you before.”

“Not like that.”

“I’ve wanted to hurt you before.” The words scrape at his throat like razors. Once they start coming, they won’t stop. “I’m not – well. I’ve been stuck here for so long, day in, day out, waiting for something to happen, and Gotenks is never here. When you showed up, it was already too late.” He swallows hard, tasting copper. “Whatever I was before is broken. I’m not good for you or anyone.”

“I know,” Gogeta says, smiling as if it doesn’t matter at all. “No one’s good all the time, Vegito, especially not in their own heads. But really… all that time alone, all those chances to do whatever you wanted with me, and you haven’t done anything I didn’t want you to.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he agrees, “but if you’d just told me upfront, I’d have been okay with that, too.”

That… is not what Vegito was expecting to hear. “Huh?”

This time, Gogeta’s the one who looks away. “You don’t kiss me unless we’re already fighting. I know what to expect from that. This… caught me a little off-guard.”

“A little. Right.” Vegito rolls his eyes and immediately regrets it. Why do his eyes hurt? “Sorry for scaring you, won’t do it again, leave me to lick my wounds in peace.”

A soft huff of laughter is all the warning he gets before Gogeta kisses him. It’s a soft, chaste thing, made deliberately slow, but he still doesn’t put the pieces together until their lips are already together. In fact, he’s still confused several seconds later when Gogeta pulls away. 

So this is why a simple touch threw Gogeta off so badly. They really don’t touch each other romantically unless they’re already beating each other bloody. An intimate gesture on its own is something completely different. It brings a different kind of heat to Vegito’s blood. The hunger gnawing at his gut is the same, though. It always been.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he says, because today is a day for honesty.

Gogeta’s smile grows teeth. “I’d like to see you try.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gogeta thinks they might be dating now. You know, as much as two guys who are actually two other guys, all of whom are stuck in a half-assed pocket dimension, can date. It’s not like they can just drop by the cinema, the Tenkaichi Budokai, or the buffet whenever they want. There’s a limited number of activities available to them at any given time, depending on the current terrain of their prison, the imitation air currents, whether or not there’s a moon to watch, and if all the water has spontaneously turned into ice cream again. 

That was a fun week.

So far, they’ve mostly just talked between spars. Vegito’s stolen a kiss or two when Gogeta wasn’t paying attention. Nothing more than that. It feels kinda slow compared to Chi-Chi hunting Goku down or Bulma wrestling Vegeta into bed, but that’s fine. All things considered, Gogeta isn’t too worried about how fast things are going. But Vegito is restless, and he is worried about that. You can only be kept in close quarters with someone for so long before you start picking up on their emotions, and right now, Vegito is just about ready to vibrate out of his skin.

Usually, that’s a sign that Gogeta needs to watch out, because the second his bruises have faded he’ll be eating Vegito’s fists, but his aches have drained away and Vegito hasn’t started up their fight where it left off. Gogeta isn’t sure why. He doesn’t like it.

If it was Vegeta avoiding fighting Goku, then Goku would accept it and move on, right up until he decided it was more important to get things out in the open between them than it was to respect Vegeta’s unspoken wishes. If it was Goku doing the avoiding, Vegeta would draw into himself, seething with fury and no small amount of hurt, waiting for someone to crack his walls and set him off. Gogeta doesn’t know he feels about it, personally. The middle ground between pain and serenity is a minefield of confusion and annoyance. He wishes Vegito would just say what he means for once. But then, Vegito probably wishes Gogeta could take a hint the way it was intended.

Despite being made from exactly the same component parts, they don’t really understand each other. Funny how that works.

Still, this really can’t continue. If the pressure keeps building, it’ll explode messily when they’re least expecting it, possibly when Gotenks is there to witness the fallout. No. Not happening. Their son doesn’t deserve to be sucked into their bullshit. So Gogeta waits until Gotenks blinks out of existence – or rather, into existence somewhere neither he nor his counterpart can reach – then goes to confront Vegito.

It’s not hard to find him. When left to his own devices and not bothering Gogeta, Vegito inevitably goes in one direction: up. Gogeta tracks him down by heading to the highest point – a small mountain, currently, which corkscrews like a narwhal horn – and craning his neck skyward. 

There he is. 

“Vegito.”

“Yo.” Vegito twists in midair and dives, then spins around again and comes to a stop a few feet away, sitting cross-legged in midair. 

“Are you tired of fighting me?” Gogeta asks. There’s an unexpected edge to his voice. Huh. He hadn’t realized he was that upset about it.

Vegito blinks. “What?”

“I don’t care how weak you think I am. I’ll make you take me seriously.”

“As if you could,” he says immediately, then shakes his head. “No, seriously, what?”

There’s a fey beauty Vegito has and Gogeta lacks, channeled from Vegeta’s alien pride and Goku’s detachment from the world. It makes him maliciously playful, confidently capricious, all but inscrutable beneath his otherworldly smiles. He moves like his feet weren’t made to touch the ground. Most of the time, Gogeta appreciates that. Now is not one of those times.

“Get ready,” he snaps, and throws himself into the air.

The fight that follows is deeply unsatisfying for one simple fact: Vegito is doing nothing but dodging. It’s not a show of power, caution, or playfulness. It’s just… a refusal to take him seriously. Gogeta hates it. The pressure builds inside him until it finally bursts out.

“Stop running away!”

“Excuse me for not wanting to hurt my–” Vegito goes quiet, eyes wide, one hand flying to his throat. He’s not even injured. He’s just… shocked. 

No. He’s afraid.

“Your what?” Gogeta asks, because this is important. Vegeta and Goku are something powerful to each other. Enemies, rivals, partners, their severed other half, the one each wishes to die beside. Gogeta and Vegito… aren’t that, at least not yet. But they could be. As long as Vegito stops holding back and fights him seriously, that is. If he can’t even do that, Gogeta is going to murder him in his sleep.

“Ugh, I don’t know. Partner? Rival? ‘Boyfriend’ sounds so dumb.” He sounds careless as ever, but he won’t make eye contact with Gogeta. Despite the fury surging through him, Gogeta has to admit it’s kind of cute.

“Is that all you’ve been seeing our fights as? A chance to hurt me?”

“No! Fighting you is the most fun I’ve ever had in this place! I just–” He cuts himself off with a sound of disgust. “Couples don’t fight, do they?”

Just when Gogeta thought he couldn’t get any angrier. “We’re Saiyans!”

“So are—the guys we’re made of!” A moment of irritable distraction leads to an opening. Vegito yelps and throws up his arms just in time to catch Gogeta’s punch. He looks genuinely distraught at the close call. Good. “Would you expect me to hit Bulma or Chi-Chi?”

“No, I expect you to hit me!”

Gogeta’s blows are beginning to land now, but Vegito still isn’t fighting back. He’s just pulling further into himself, smiling like a scared ape. It’s the worst thing Gogeta’s ever seen.

“What am I supposed to do?” Vegito yells finally, raking his nails over his scalp. “No one we’ve loved has ever wanted to fight us! This – isn’t it just domestic abuse?”

Ah. So that’s the issue. “Vegito, you’re an idiot,” Gogeta says seriously, and punches him right in the mouth. He rocks back on his heels, starts to say something, then sees Gogeta’s face and shuts the hell up. “I don’t want you to love me like you’d love Bulma or Chi-Chi. I’m not them. They might’ve needed a softer love, but I need you to make it hurt. It's not Chi-Chi and Bulma's hearts beating within me. Besides,” he adds, because Vegito has clearly overlooked something obvious, “you’re wrong. Goku and Vegeta love each other and they always want to fight.”

He would know. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel them burning in the back of his head. 

Vegito is staring at him as if he’s never seen Gogeta before. “…oi. When did you get so smart, huh? You’re muscling in on my turf.”

“So I am.” A thin smirk steals over Gogeta’s face. “What are you going to do about it?”

The answer, apparently, is hit him so hard he smashes into the mountain below. It shatters under his spine. He gets his bearings just in time to catch Vegito’s kick in his stomach.

It hurts. It tastes of blood. It feels fantastic.

Yeah, this is much better. Gogeta laughs and prepares his counterattack.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: biting.

Gogeta’s still not quite used to looking down at Vegito. Or anyone, really. Piccolo towered over him. Broly could’ve picked him up with one hand, even in base. Gotenks is so much smaller that he doesn’t register on the same scale, and besides, that kid flies more than he walks. Everyone else… well, he hasn’t really met them, has he? All he knows about them is filtered through Vegeta’s surly wariness and Goku’s open-hearted kindness. That’s enough to ensure Gogeta cares about them. It’s not enough to give him an idea of how tall they stand compared to him.

He’s used to being shorter than people, is what he’s saying, but Vegito is… kinda small. Not tiny, exactly. Just… several inches shorter than Gogeta and at least twenty pounds lighter. Maybe more. When you can bench-press a small planet, it’s kinda hard to gauge these things.

There’s no real reason for Gogeta to be dwelling on this. Not when Vegito is stronger than him. He’s usually looking up at Vegito anyway, for one reason or another – either watching Vegito soar overhead or looking up from Vegito’s feet. But they’re starting to spend more time together without just fighting constantly, which means more chances for Gogeta to glance over and abruptly realize that they’re standing side by side, and he has to tilt his head down to make eye contact.

Now is one of those times.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Vegito says with a smile. He’s usually smiling, but it’s always a toss-up how much he actually means it. Gogeta’s figuring out a ranking system. This one is a solid four: ‘I’m not actually happy but I don’t know what else to do with my face.’

“Thinking.”

“Oh? What about? Don’t tell me it’s me, haha.”

“It is,” Gogeta says. He has no particular reason to hide it.

Vegito wheezes and doubles over as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. He hasn’t. Gogeta would remember hitting him. “You can’t keep doing this to me! Think of my poor heart!”

Gogeta cocks his head to the side. “I’m not doing anything, though?”

“You are! You definitely are!” Vegito drags his hands down his face, glowering through the spaces between his fingers. “Augh, how can such an airhead be so smooth?”

“That’s a little harsh.” Gogeta isn’t an airhead. He’s just… not always prone to vocalizing his entire thought process. 

“You totally are.” Vegito unfolds and slides into Gogeta’s space, crossing the distance between them in an instant. His arm coils around Gogeta’s neck, cutting off any hope of that escape. Gogeta notes that down without much interest. He’s too busy losing himself in Vegito’s hot black eyes. “It’s fine! A little spaciness is cute. But seriously,” he murmurs, close enough that Gogeta can feel the warmth of his breath, “stop saying stuff like that so casually. I’m gonna think you’re doing it on purpose.”

Gogeta blinks slowly. “Why would I be doing it on purpose–”

“To test how long I can hold out before jumping you.”

Ah. That… certainly is a motive. It’s not one Gogeta’s ever had, but it sure does exist. “Why would I do that? You don’t hold back at all.”

“Hey! I can so!”

“And when you do,” Gogeta continues, “I don’t like it. Restraining yourself isn’t your style.” He drops his gaze to Vegito’s lips – soft, slightly parted, more dangerous than they look. “It’s not exactly my style, either.”

Vegito opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again. “Just to be clear, you’re hitting on me right now, yeah?”

Huh. Is he? After a moment’s thought, Gogeta nods.

“Right! Awesome. Tap three times if you want out.” As soon as the words are spoken, Vegito surges forward. Gogeta braces himself for violence. He’s completely unprepared for a plundering kiss. Teeth sunk into his lips. One hand pulling him down by the hair, the other locked tight around his throat. Muscles like steel trapping him in place. This too is a fight. Having been taken off-guard, it seems he’s bound to lose.

It hurts. He likes that. He’s an empty, hollow thing, but Vegito’s touch makes him feel alive.

Vegito’s lips come away stained red. Gogeta tastes blood in his mouth. He doesn’t know what his face looks like, but Vegito takes one look at his expression and begins to chuckle. 

“You really like being manhandled, huh?”

He runs his tongue over bitten lips and winces. “It’s not that.”

The grip on his neck tightens. “Then what?”

The floaty sensation Goku gets from fighting strong opponents mixed with Vegeta’s masochistic determination, perhaps? The giddy rush of survival instincts going into overdrive? The heady knowledge that there are mountains beyond mountains still left to reach? Simply taking glory in self-destruction? Gogeta shakes his head. “It’s no good. I can’t put it into words.”

“This better not be a show of pity,” Vegito says, his voice low. “I don’t need sympathy.”

Gogeta looks at him blankly. “Why would I pity you?”

For a moment, they just hold each other’s gazes from bare inches away. Then a leering grin spreads across Vegito’s face. He wrenches Gogeta’s head sideways and buries his teeth in the meat of one shoulder. Pain and pleasure radiate out from the bite. The noise Gogeta makes is indescribable.

“That’s right,” Vegito murmurs into blood and broken skin, so close the sound reverberates inside Gogeta’s bones. “Keep looking like that. Don’t ever look down on me.”

“I – won’t,” Gogeta gasps. His hands fly up to Vegito’s sides, dragging him closer. Or trying to, anyway. Vegito refuses to move, so he wraps his arms around Vegito’s hips instead. He feels unexpectedly slim, but his teeth have sunk so deep.

Vegito is afraid of being small and weak, isn’t he? Gogeta really isn’t. For all he once announced himself as the strongest, he’s never truly defined himself that way. How could he, when he was born with the knowledge of Vegito’s existence? Metamor Fusion is a pale echo of Potara Fusion, the creation of mortals vs the creation of the gods. Even if they could train, Vegito would still be head and shoulders above him – flying higher and higher, unbound by the restraints of the world. As long as Vegito lives, he’ll never be the strongest.

But doesn’t it feel wonderful, being conquered by something like that?

 _This is why Vegeta stays,_ he thinks as colors burst behind his eyes. _Not hate, not pity. For this. Having the person you can’t surpass – the one whose existence defines you – hold you close is its own victory._

It’s amazing, isn’t it? Defeat can taste so sweet.


	4. Chapter 4

Vegito hates losing control, but he loves it when Gogeta starts things. It’s rare, because Gogeta has enough of Kakarot in him that most of the time, physical intimacy just flat-out doesn’t occur to him. 90% of the time, he exists in a world where lust is a thing that happens to other people. He’ll respond readily enough when prompted, but Vegito can always see that manual shift in worldview when it happens. It’s not that Gogeta dislikes sex, exactly. It’s just not a need for him. Most of the time, it’s barely even a want. Given the choice between sex and violence, he’ll pick a good fight without even thinking. Not that Vegito can blame him, exactly, but Vegito’s had years to get the two tangled up in his head. Gogeta has no excuse.

Anyway, that’s what dating Gogeta is like 90% of the time. The other 10%, Gogeta abruptly stops being a dazed mountain ascetic and transforms into something wild, unpredictable, and utterly without restraint. 

It’s one of the hottest things Vegito’s ever seen. He just wishes the transition was a bit more obvious. Gogeta doesn’t have a lot of facial expressions, so a particularly intense stare can mean a lot of things: hunger, annoyance, loneliness, thinking intently about something stupid, thinking intently about something distressing, thinking intently about Vegito – so embarrassing! – or about to make a move. So when he actually does prowl forward, eyes flashing with an alien hunger, it never fails to catch Vegito by surprise.

“You busy?” Gogeta asks, shining gold, green eyes boring holes through Vegito’s head. There’s no teasing glances, no silently undressing Vegito in his mind, just the ravenous stare of a hungry god.

Vegito laughs, suddenly breathless. “Nope. Thought of something to do?”

Zamasu could’ve taken lessons in divinity from this guy. There’s more regal arrogance in the tilt of Gogeta’s head than that foolish god had in his whole twisted body. “You.”

“You can’t just say that,” Vegito protests, but he leans toward Gogeta, eyes wide, grinning. His heart is pounding in his ears. The distance between them is crossed in an instant.

“How cute,” Gogeta purrs, stroking his cheek with calloused fingers. “You weren’t this shy when you ripped me open yesterday.”

Vegito swallows thickly. For a moment, there’s hot blood on his hands, his face, his tongue. Gogeta’s face, bruised and gasping, blood everywhere and still fighting to get closer instead of away, floats in his mind’s eye. Then he blinks, and Gogeta is gazing down at him with the cold, proud eyes of an indulgent god. “You weren’t this pushy yesterday.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The corner of Gogeta’s mouth turns up. “That’s good. I like this side of you, too.”

It’s not like being two-faced is anything new to them. Assuming that’s the right word. Maybe dualism would be closer? Ah, forget it. Vegito can’t think of anything when Gogeta is wrapping an arm around his hips. There’s a hint of Kakarot’s self-assurance in that hand and a dash of Vegeta’s pride in those eyes, but in the end, it’s Gogeta who grabs Vegito’s chin and pulls him closer. The grip is ungentle; those green eyes are anything but kind. 

Blond locks fall gently over Gogeta’s face, doing nothing to soften his gaze. His is a quiet hunger, omnipresent, sunk so deep into his bones that it can never come out. The silence makes it worse.

“Well?” Vegito asks after a moment of painful anticipation. “If you don’t do anything, I will.”

As soon as the words are out, Gogeta’s grip on his jaw tightens. Then he hauls Vegito forward effortlessly and crushes their mouths together. The kiss is deep, savage, violent. It tastes of blood. It’s glorious.

If he really wanted to, Vegito could break free. Instead, he stays right where he is – choking on Gogeta’s tongue – and slides a hand under Gogeta’s chest, wandering over smooth skin and defined muscle. There are still bruises here, if he looks carefully, but the wounds are closed and the scars are fading. Besides, a few imperfections only add to Gogeta’s appeal. The thought stutters off into sparks as Gogeta’s fingers begin to move at his waist.

There’s something really beautiful about having Gogeta under him, broken and helpless, but being the focus of all Gogeta’s normally-scattered attention – being at ground zero of a natural disaster, in the grasp of a storm personified – well, that’s pretty nice, too. 

The kiss grows deeper. Vegito didn’t even think it could get deeper than this. Ah, he’s getting light-headed. If it weren’t for Gogeta’s arms holding him down, he might float away. Like this, he thinks Gogeta could – and would – eat him alive. And who knows? Vegito might be in the mood to let him.

Finally, Gogeta pulls back and lets Vegito breathe. It’s unfair. He’s as calm and focused as he was at the beginning, all terrible eyes and hungry mouth, while Vegito grabs at broad shoulders and blinks back tears. One of them’s a mess and one of them’s – not immaculate, but still unreachable. 

When Gogeta looks like this, something in Vegito’s gut knots tighter, whispering _you never had the right to touch him._

That voice is so, so right. Beautiful things like this weren’t made to be stained by Vegito’s touch. But Gogeta holds him close, lets him catch his breath while those eyes drink up whatever filthy expression Vegito’s wearing. He must be a mess. He can feel bloodied spit running slowly down his chin, the burn of tears prickling at his eyes, the helpless clench of his fingers on Gogeta’s shoulders.

“Itadakimasu,” Gogeta murmurs, then translates it into Galactic standard almost absently. “Thanks for the meal.”

Vegito has a retort ready – something about being a snack, not a full course – but Gogeta narrows his eyes and it withers on Vegito’s lips. He sighs breathily instead, trying for casual. He fails. Utterly. “Jeez, are you – seriously hungry right now?”

“No, I’m trying to come on to you.”

“Ah,” he wheezes. “You’re doing a great job. Carry on.”


End file.
